


Elements of Control

by Chthonia



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst and Porn, Elemental Magic, F/M, Light BDSM, POV Kylo Ren, Submissive Kylo Ren, Virgin Kylo Ren, female Knights of Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 08:42:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17241098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chthonia/pseuds/Chthonia
Summary: In a world where men wield magic and women wield power, the advent of an Earth witch holds the key to victory of Fire and Air over Water.  But when Fire mage Kylo Ren finds that the new witch is female, his hunger for power is set against his instinct to submit.





	Elements of Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bittersnake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bittersnake/gifts).



> Dear bittersnake - 
> 
> This was quite a challenging prompt - I share few of your cultural references, nor, I suspect, your preferred flavour of Reylo. But I hope I have followed the spirit of your request and that you find this little flight of fantasy gratifying.
> 
> Firstly, I am all too aware that I didn't manage to weave in your plot prompts, but I hope you will recognise and enjoy my responses to some of your other prompts. Secondly, I was not previously aware of the Black Jewels trilogy, but I read the first in the series and... yes, I see the appeal. :) I don't feel I have enough of a grasp of that world to write in it, but I hope you will appreciate the aspects of it that have flavoured mine. And lastly, submissive Kylo is not a characterisation I would have chosen, but writing him was so much more interesting than I'd have expected. So thank-you for pushing me to explore that.

~ * ~ 

A Fire mage does not fear the storm. A Fire mage _is_ the storm.

By day, he harnesses its power to his will. At night, it rages through his dreams. It hurls him through the sky as waves churn beneath and lightning cleaves the sky. He tumbles. He burns. He screams out his fury.

It is all he has ever known.

But then, there is the island. A gap in the ever-swirling cloud. A beam of light, shining strong and steady enough to soothe the roiling waves.

It's _wrong_. Revolting.

And yet, something about it draws him, pulls him closer as the winds fade to the caress of a summer breeze.

The beam falls on his face, and he sees.

Is seen.

He flings himself back, away, awake.

He throws off his furs and runs his hand through sweat-soaked hair.

Kylo Ren is Fire. He will not be cowed by a nightmare.

 

~ * ~ 

 

"You felt it." The voice is but a whisper, rasping like dead leaves skittering on stone, but it reaches into the soul of all who hear it.

Kylo raises his head. His mentor's eyes are milky with age, but what he does not see, he _sees._

"Yes, my Lord."

"An awakening. A new… witch." Lord Snoke smiles, pulling his desiccated skin taut across his twisted face. Kylo may not have the Air sorcerer's ability to read thoughts, but he can _feel_ his mentor's excitement. It is a long time since something has interested him so.

The old resentment burns. He ignores it. Snoke, he knows, will not.

The ancient sorcerer crouches in front of his kneeling apprentice. He places one papery finger on the younger man's cheek. "You will find him, Kylo Ren. Find him, and bring him to me. He must not fall into the hands of the Magician."

Kylo brings his fist to his forehead in salute, and stands to do his mentor's bidding.

Behind him, his knights rise as one.

 

~ * ~ 

 

Kylo reins in his horse as the Vale of Lothal opens up before them. Interceptor snorts, his breath visible in the frigid air. Kylo lifts his visor.

His knights draw up beside him. No words are necessary – they always pause in this place, where the icy pass from Lord Snoke's fortress and the icy clutch of Lord Snoke's power starts to loosen.

From these heights, the country ahead appears tranquil, though Kylo knows that the stolid castles in the distance will be thrown into panic as their lookouts relay news of his arrival. None of these petty lords want a visit from the Knights of Ren. But neither do they wish to be unprepared, should Kylo choose to avail himself of their hospitality.

He closes his helm and raises his hand. As one, the knights sweep down into the valley.

 

~ * ~ 

 

The fearful lordlings can sleep easy tonight – after the frigid formality of Lord Snoke's fortress, the knights are only too happy to bed down in the shelter of a wood, to eat around a campfire instead of insisting a host give them a private room where their faces will not be seen.

Malia, as always, is the first of them to pull off her helm, strands of her red hair sticking to her cheek after the day's ride.

Raethid is already gathering wood for Kylo to ignite, while Fetla and Ellyn heave their packs to the ground. The clang of metal pots echoes through the trees as Kylo sets wards around their camp.

Raethid is waiting by the woodpile when he returns. She tucks her small axe into her belt. "We made swift progress today, Lord Ren."

He nods. "Clear skies and a clear road."

If only their destination was as clear, he thinks. He can sense the witch, but it should be a steady flame, not this flickering at the edge of his senses. Clearly this Earth magic user has not yet learned to regulate himself. Which makes it all the more important to find him quickly.

"How far have we to go?" asks Raethid.

Kylo frowns. Raethid has only a touch of Air magic, but sometimes her reading of him is dangerously close.

"Not far," he tells her. "Maybe a day." The beacon of the witch's power may be unstable, but it is strong.

He calls to Fire; the flame rises to meet him. He steps back, watching the sparks dance into the sky, as his knights dance through their allotted roles in the camp.

Sometimes he regrets that Lord Snoke has bound them to his service like this, all from his need to prove that men are able to rule. But the truth is, without Kylo's power, they would be nothing. And without their restraint, he would be consumed by his own strength.

Still, at times he longs to be 'Kylo' and not 'Lord Ren'.

After he's cleaned the last drop of stew from his wooden bowl, Kylo stares into the flames. On the other side of the fire a sword is being sharpened, and the low notes of Sera's flute throb through the clearing like a caress. Or an invitation, aimed at Ellyn who has paired her in training in these last months, and by the looks they shoot at each other has paired her out of training too.

He must not think about that.

He turns his mind to their quarry. A witch – the first wielder of Earth magic in these lands for at least fifty years. His curiosity barely masks his excitement. According to the Cycle of Power, a Fire mage has power over an Earth witch, and the possibilities are _glorious._

 

_Fire consumes Earth_

_Earth contains Water_

_Water quenches Fire_

Air above All.

 

Kylo scowls. He knows all about Water trying to quench Fire. But with the witch apprenticed to him, he will have his revenge on his uncle at last.

 

~ * ~ 

 

 _Maybe a day_ , he'd said Or maybe two days. Or three. Or even a week. The witch's magic catches at him like an itch he can't scratch, so strong its bearer should be close enough to touch, but always over the horizon from every settlement they inspect.

Every night the campfire burns fiercer. There is no music now, no laughter, no _love_. He feels Malia's sideways glances, the silence of words withheld lest one be the spark that will light the fire that will consume them all.

He escapes the fire for the darkness of the trees beyond. Here, at least, the quiet is not unnatural.

Behind him, a twig snaps. He whirls round, his sword almost at the intruder's throat before he recognises her wild hair.

"Malia." He does not lower the sword.

She raises her hands. "Forgive me, Lord Ren, but…"

Their eyes lock. He sighs. "I know." She has her duty, and he should not fault her for carrying it out. He sheathes his weapon.

"Tomorrow, we should be out of the Takodana forest," she says. "There's a tavern nearby, where the way to the Western Reaches crosses the high road to Hosnia. Perhaps we may hear news there of this witch."

Kylo quirks an eyebrow. "And you want a break from sleeping on the ground? Or just from the tension around the campfire?"

"I think we all need a break, Lord Ren."

"Do you think it wise?"

"I think it necessary."

For a moment he's sure she's about to lay her hand on his arm – a gesture of brotherly solidarity that would surely be commonplace among a company of men. But she cannot. Lord Snoke's training runs deep.

He follows her back to the fire.

 

~ * ~ 

 

Malia's tavern is not the hovel he'd expected, but a towering grey castle, and as soon as he sees it Kylo knows he has been there before. But that was long ago. His concealing black armour is defence enough against the past.

He is about to dismount when a man emerges from the tavern door. Kylo has seen him before too, but far more recently.

His hand finds the hilt of his sword. Beside him, Raethid tenses. This man Finn, who has frozen at the sight of them, was just one of Hux's conscripts, but the knights do not tolerate treachery.

 _"Run!"_ the man shouts, and that's all the prompting they need to spur their horses forward. Their prey dodges through a narrow gate; Sera slips to the ground as Kylo wheels his horse around; Interceptor will earn his name today.

Finn is nearly at the treeline as Kylo rounds the wall. Sera points to a hooded figure who has clearly exited the back of the tavern and is also sprinting towards the forest. The figure glances back, as if sensing his scrutiny – and the witch-beacon flares, so strong that for a moment he is blinded.

Could it be?

He shakes his head clear. Sera is looking at him quizzically, and he realises he's pulled Interceptor to a halt.

"You go after the traitor," he tells her. "Leave the other to me."

He digs in his heels and his horse springs forward. The light dims to green as he passes under the trees, and he senses more than sees the figure ahead of him. Here at the forest's edge the trunks are spaced comfortably enough for a mounted pursuit, and he closes the distance between them.

"Stop!" he yells.

But the figure twists to the right and disappears behind a shadowy rock. When he reaches the spot he finds a split in the rock, curving away out of sight, far too narrow for the horse to follow.

As if he would give up now.

The ravine is rough underfoot, as if the land has heaved and broken, creating a natural maze walled in mossy stone. But he knows which way to follow – he's so close; the witch-magic cannot fade out now.

There's a thud against his armour. And another. And another.

And a dark-hooded figure up ahead, firing arrow after arrow with a panic he can _taste_.

"Stop!" he shouts again.

Another arrow in response. He raises his hand and incinerates it to ash.

_Enough of this._

Flames arc from his fingers, coiling around the witch. He will not be harmed, if he does not run.

But as he reaches though the flames to tug back the hood, he sees what it had kept shadowed: the soft lips and hazel eyes and dark brows of a face that is unmistakenly female.

For a moment the disappointment threatens to overwhelm him. He was so sure this was the magic-wielder he had been seeking.

Unless… it's impossible. Men have control over magic, and women have control over men; however much Lord Snoke rebels against the latter, the former has never been in question. But as he circles the woman in his cage (slender neck, fierce glare, dark hair pulled back into three messy buns), he cannot deny that she is the source of the power he has been following.

"It is you," he breathes.

"Let me go!" The tremble in her voice tries to be more fury than fear.

"And if I do, will you still try to kill me?" He peers in at her. "Why didn't you just stop when I called?"

She laughs, and it is at once hideously harsh and the most beautiful sound he has ever heard. "Would you stop, if a faceless monster was chasing you with a sword?"

It is his turn to laugh. "I have a face, my lady. You shouldn't believe village tales just because my companions and I choose not to show ours."

She says nothing. Her glare does not lessen.

And almost before he realises what he's doing, he has unclasped his helmet and dropped it at his feet.

Her lips part in surprise.

She meets his gaze, witch to mage, and now he can see only her and all of her – a tiny hand plucking plants in the scrublands, a hidden home in a sandy cave, leering merchants in a market, a whirling staff and a crack of bone when they do more than leer. A name: Rey.

He blinks the visions away, suddenly cold at what she must have seen in him. He shouldn't have forgotten the Seeing between those blessed by magic. He should have been able to resist its call regardless.

The flames around her flare and peel away, and now it is he who is encased. The fire is green now, and where it catches his cheek it does not burn but bite. He is torn between awe and fear.

She steps back, wide-eyed. Whatever she has done, it was not done with intent.

"Don’t be afraid," he tells her. Tells himself.

She shakes her head. "I didn't mean…"

He grits his teeth and reaches for her. The acid-green flame bites and burns; he uses the pain to drive himself forward, clasping her hands and pushing her back against a tree. As their hands meet bark, her magic drains to Earth until they are both encased in fire. His flames dance in her eyes, and for a mad moment kissing her would be the most natural thing in the world.

He jumps back. The flames fall away.

He runs his hand through his hair. "You need a teacher," he says. "Let me show you the beauty of magic."

She pulls her cloak tight around her. "Why would you do that?"

"Why would I not? Do you even realise how rare your magic is? There hasn't been a witch in fifty years. Do you mean to waste it?"

"Waste." There's a bitter tone to the word. She steps closer and gazes up at him. "You just want to use me, like everyone else. To control me. To be your _servant_."

He closes his eyes. Yes, she has read that truth in him, but it is not the whole truth.

"My apprentice," he says, returning her gaze.

"Apprentice? To a _man?_ "

He clenches his fists. Yes, he knows what people will say: that she must be weak-minded, or a whore.

"Does it matter?" The plea in his voice takes him by surprise.

She raises her hand to his cheek. He refuses to flinch as she covers the weal made by her flame. "I will not come with you, Kylo Ren," she says. "If you want me, free yourself and come with me."

 

~ * ~ 

 

"You found the witch?" Lord Snoke's hiss bites deeper than Rey's flames. "Then why is the creature not here?"

"She would not come, my Lord."

Lord Snoke paces, his golden robes almost brushing Kylo's knees where he kneels.

"She Would. Not. Come. Why did you give her a choice?"

Kylo keeps his eyes focussed on the patterned tiles at his mentor's feet. "She is a witch, Lord Snoke. Forcing her here would not win her support." Freeing her friend had seemed the wiser course, then finding her again after winter has passed, when she's had time to reflect on his offer.

That he will be able to find her again, he has no doubt.

"Perhaps," muses Lord Snoke. "Perhaps not. Or perhaps, _boy,_ she cast a spell on _you._ " He hooks a finger under Kylos chin and forces him to meet his gaze. "Yes," he croons. "I see it. A mage does not think with his cock, Kylo Ren. You have neglected your discipline of late."

The old sorcerer gestures to the knights. Kylo hears them rise. He himself does not move as the blindfold is tied tight and the rope embraces his wrists. 

He is led behind Lord Snoke's throne, to a room he has visited many times but never seen. He is relieved of his belt, and his surcoat and his tunic. The cool air kisses his flesh.

Each wrist is bound fast to a sturdy post. A warm hand on his shoulder returns him to his kneeling position. He waits, his arms spread.

He does not bow his head. He cannot stop himself blushing at the exposure, but he will not wear shame. He hates this as much as he craves it, as much as he hates that he craves it.

There is no hate for his knights. This is a necessary ritual: one they do not speak about, ever.

The only thing he hates is the thought of Lord Snoke watching. So, of course, the old sorcerer does.

The whistle of the whip never prepares him for the pain. He jerks in his restraints before bracing himself for the next blow. He needs this, he reminds himself, he must purge his weakness in pain and turn it into power.

He does not know which of his knights wields the instrument of his discipline; the blindfold preserves that confidence. They share the duty, whether by preference, mood or by drawing lots he knows not. All he knows is the hand that makes the whip curl to bite the soft skin at his waist, the hand that plants cutting blows to his shoulders, the hand that lays parallel lines of fire that burn deeper each time they are overlaid.

He will not cry out.

Until, resistance spent, he cannot do otherwise. He slumps between the posts as the knots around his wrists are loosened, cool salve daubed on his back, a cold cup pressed to his lips.

He drinks. He sleeps.

He will awake in his own bed.

He will break fast with Lord Snoke.

He will meet his knights on the training ground. They will not spare him. He will not spare them.

They will not speak of this, ever.

 

~ * ~ 

 

A Fire mage does not fear the forest. A Fire mage can burn the forest to nothing, should he so choose.

And so a Fire Mage need not fear a forest witch, when she calls to him in dream and he follows her beacon to the dark heart of her home.

He need not fear when her vines wrap tightly around his wrists and haul his arms up against a branch – it would be a necessary precaution, he reasons, and besides he could burn them away at need.

So he smiles, nodding at the greenery surrounding them. "Your winter is less harsh than mine."

"Will you come for me, when the pass opens?"

"Would you like me to?"

"Would you stay?"

"Would you let me go?"

She laughs, and this time it's not harsh at all. "You need to free yourself, Kylo Ren. I told you that before."

"What if I don't wish to free myself?"

She approaches him then, and he realises he is naked in front of her. Another vine rises from the ground, snaking around and around his waist and chest like a coiled green corset.

His breaths come shallow, whether due to the constriction or the predatory gleam in her eyes he could not say. He can burn away the vines whenever he chooses, he reminds himself.

Though these vines are not mere earth but Earth. She is drawing on her own magic now, not riding on his.

"You have learned control," he says.

"Have I?" She is not referring to her magic.

And then she puts her hands on his hips, and it is clear who does and who does not have control here. He hardens at her touch, and stifles a groan as she brushes her fingers along his length.

A Fire mage does not beg. But a Fire mage longs for her to press herself up against him and meet his lips with hers.

Instead, she kneels.

Control. Control.

…is so overrated

Her mouth. Her tongue, licking circles around the head of his cock until he bucks. And there is nothing he can do to stop her, thank Fire. Nothing he can do to make her continue. He will not beg.

_"Rey."_

He will beg.

She stands. She spreads her hands on his chest.

"Come to me, Fire mage."

The vines tighten. All is black.

All is light. Kylo blinks against the morning sun.

Come to me.

Come.

Come.

He wraps his hand around his cock. He lets go as if stung, twisting his fingers in his sheets.

A Fire mage does not waste his seed. A Fire mage-

A Fire mage buries his cock in his Earth witch and fucks her until she screams his name to the sky.

He rolls out of bed.

_Fire consumes Earth._

Then why does it feel as if _she_ is devouring _him_? It is he who should be binding her – in promises of greatness, in lust that leaves her mewling for his touch. In chains of fire, should he so wish.

_What if I don't wish to?_

The thought is terrifying. He knows his own mind. His own power. He's fought for it long and hard. He will not become some woman's toy.

He pulls on a tunic, buckles on his surcoat. He only has to be superficially presentable to run down to the cold pool in the castle's depths. And if that doesn't work, he will petition Malia and Raethid for discipline.

Even if he spends the whole session imagining his Rey is holding the whip.

 

~ * ~ 

 

_Come to me._

The command has haunted him through months of nights. And now he can finally obey.

Not obey. He goes of his own volition. And with his mentor's blessing, no less.

The route from the fortress was risky, but passable. A Fire mage has no need to fear an icy road. The sea, on the other hand… will also be passable now the winter storms have abated, but extremely unpleasant. A Fire mage has plenty to fear there.

Not that Kylo Ren is _afraid._

Rey will embark from the port city of Corellia – she has shown him the ship, a pitiful thing that doesn't look like it could survive an afternoon's pleasure jaunt on the calmest reaches of the Hosnian River. She will wait. But not for long.

She is going in search of his uncle, the reclusive Water magician.

_Come with me._

Kylo's need for revenge, his need to protect her from what was done to him, cannot let him do otherwise. And his mentor's wish to prevent the witch joining with the magician also prevents him withholding support.

Kylo has travelled light and fast, in an unliveried cloak and staged horses. It has been strange, moving in the valleys with his face uncovered. And stranger still seeing others look at him with curiosity, wariness, even lust, but not the outright fear he is used to.

It is the same here as he approaches the harbour, pulling his cloak closed against the sea breeze. One of his size and bearing can hardly go unnoticed, but neither do the townsfolk deem his unarmoured self worth commenting on.

Once, that might have bothered him. But he knows his power now. He could impress them well enough if he really wanted to.

The berth is easy to find, as is the mean tavern where Rey has taken a room. He turns his nose up at the latter and chooses to wait by the ship – one day, he hopes she will let him show her what her power can be worth to the world.

Lounging behind a pile of crates, he hears Rey before he sees her.

"I'm perfectly able to go alone. Do you really think one old sailor will be a threat to me after growing up in Jakku? Besides, you hate boats."

"Putting up with a boat would be better than sitting here not knowing if you're alive or dead." It's Finn's voice. But there's no need to fear recognition – he replaced his helm before parting from Rey in the woods, and Hux's troops were never granted sight of the faces of the Knights of Ren. 

"Well, I'll be alive," Rey retorts. "So you won't need to worry."

Kylo stands up and stretches. "And she won't be on her own," he says. "So you don't need to worry about that, either."

Finn halts. "Who is _that_?" he stage-whispers at Rey.

Rey is staring at Kylo. And if he'd thought her beautiful in the dim forest light or in the haze of the dreamscape, he had been doing her a disservice. In the sunlight, she _glows._

"Rey?" Her friend shakes her arm.

"Oh, erm, that's my travelling companion. Like he said."

Finn looks at Kylo. And then at Rey. And back at Kylo. "'Travelling companion', is it? You've been holding out on me, sister."

Rey scowls, in an entirely unsuccessful attempt to distract from her blush.

Kylo comes to her rescue. "We both have business at our destination," he says. "That's all." A hard glare quells any inclination Finn might have towards further teasing.

Rey bangs on the side of the boat, rousing the captain. The tide will be right to sail at sunset, he tells them.

He also tells them there is only one cabin.

Because, Kylo muses, of course there is.

He has given much thought to how they would be when they met. He has wondered if she would let his arm circle her waist, whether their fingers would twine, whether he should greet her with a kiss. But those had been dreams and fantasies, and who could say what of them was real?

Finn's presence has deferred the question. But he knows he will not force the issue by insisting they share. Besides, one of them needs to watch the untrustworthy sea.

Rey protests when he presents her with his plan. It is ridiculous, she insists. Kylo is equally insistent that _if_ they shared the cabin he would certainly cede her the bed and there is far more space outside. He isn't sure whether to be relieved or disappointed when she gives up and stomps below deck.

It would have been a reasonable plan, had the weather continued fine. But as Kylo watches the clouds blot out the stars and the first fat raindrops swell to a torrent, he wraps his cloak around himself and shivers. Normally a Fire mage has little to fear from rain. Normally a Fire mage's own heat is sufficient to dry out his clothes from the inside. But when a Fire mage does not want to arouse the attention of a gossipy sailor, he has little choice but to put up with being cold and very, very wet.

Until an angry Earth witch appears in front of him, and he finds he has neither the will nor the inclination to resist her dragging him down to her cabin.

She pulls off his sodden cloak and is undoing his belt when he stops her and turns away. He has been naked before her in dream so many times that it should come naturally now, but he is not sure he wants her to see what can't be hidden in the flesh.

But she is Rey, and he is still shivering, and she has not come this far to stop now.

He lets her peel off his tunic. Her hand stills as she sees the scars on his back.

"What happened?"

How can he possibly explain?

"Kylo?"

Her voice is softer now. It doesn't help.

But he shouldn't be ashamed of the discipline when it's been the key to controlling his power.

"It's nothing," he says. A non-answer, and they both know it.

She follows the scars with a finger. "It's not nothing. Who did this?"

"I did," he says. "I needed it. Need it."

She takes his head in her hands and forces him to meet her gaze. And she Sees.

A long minute later, she looks away. "You will not need that any longer," she tells him.

He pulls a blanket from the bed and wraps it around himself before pushing off his lower undergarments. With a flick of his wrist he conjures a small ball of flame. It hovers below the ceiling, filling the cabin with a warm glow.

Rey unlaces her tunic and lets it fall to the floor.

Kylo's fireball wobbles. "What are you doing?"

"Do you want me to stop?"

He should. She'll weave her spell around him and make him spill his seed and he will belong to her and something in his weak and treacherous heart _wants_ that. He cannot bring himself to stop her.

He shakes his head, mute as she lifts her shift over her head and stands naked before him.

In all their dreamings, she has never shown herself to him like this before. He should reach for her, make her melt in her arms and howl out his name in shuddering pleasure. But he's had a lifetime of suppressing those instincts, and all he can do is stare.

She gently pulls away his blanket and splays her hand on his chest. He extinguishes his fireball. Candles are their only light now, throwing dancing shadows across their skin.

She pushes him back onto the narrow bed and climbs up to straddle him. He reaches up to cradle her cheek. She takes his hand in hers and presses it to the mattress.

"You said you need discipline," she murmurs. "So this is your discipline. Watch, but do not move."

One part of his body reacts to the order in erect defiance. She smiles, and slowly strokes up the underside of his stiffening cock. He groans, reaching down to close her hand around him. She stills.

"Do not move, Fire mage," she repeats. She leans down to whisper in his ear: "Let me help you."

She blows out the lantern at the head of the bed and removes it from its hook. Threading his fingers though hers, she lifts his hand above his head. She touches the hook and the cold metal flows around his wrist, holding him fast.

And now Kylo Ren knows fear. Her magic can command Earth, and though he could escape by causing the metal to melt, he'd lose the use of his hand in doing so. She has him trapped.

She reaches for his other hand. He pushes her away, unable to quell the rising panic in his voice. "What are you _doing_?"

"Helping you," she replies. "Will you let me?" She holds out her hand.

He inches away from her. She looks into his eyes. "I won't do anything to hurt you," she tells him. "I promise."

He reads the truth there: he can trust her, even more than he can trust Rathid and Malia and Sera and Ellyn, and he has trusted them with his life.

And part of him longs for the security of being bound, of knowing he won't be allowed to mess this up.

Again she offers her hand. "Let me."

He swallows, and nods. Slowly, he brings his hand to hers. She strokes the back of his hand. "Say it."

"I…"

" _Say_ it."

"Yes." He swallows again. "Bind me. Please."

He is falling, with only her to hold him.

She raises his hand to her lips and kisses it, then stretches it above his head. Again, he feels metal move at her command.

She stands back, the candlelight playing over her breasts. She loosens her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. When she crawls onto the bed, it forms a curtain around them and all he can see and smell and breathe is her.

He can't keep from trembling. _Men have control over magic, and women have control over men._ That has always been the way of things, and the tales of bards are full of gallant knights pledging themselves to fair damsels. But in Kylo's experience control is taken, not given. Taken and abused.

She covers his face with kisses. "You're free now," she assures him. "You don't need to worry. Just be with me."

"Free? Don't you want me to pledge my soul to you forever?"

She runs her tongue along his lips. He opens to her and she quests into his mouth. He thrusts up into hers and then there is no thought of binding or pledging or discipline. Only the epiphany of union.

"Yes," she says. "I do. And I in return. But as an equal. I will not be your apprentice, and I will not make you my slave."

He blinks. "You really… want me?"

She sits back. "Of course. You are my only equal in the world. And I yours. Why waste time?"

He almost laughs. He should have expected such a practical approach from a wielder of Earth magic. "Not very romantic, are you?"

She slides down the bed, tracing a line from his throat to his cock. "But Fire doesn't deal in romance either. I thought your specialty was _passion_." She closes her hand around his cock. His hips jerk.

"Fuck, _Rey._ "

She smiles. "All in good time."

She takes him in her mouth, working her tongue in small circles as she had that first time she'd held him bound in her vines. But _Earth Fire and Water_ , the reality... He writhes against her restraints. And then she takes him fully into her mouth and he groans, a long, low, animal sound that has her digging her nails into his thighs.

He groans again as she releases him. She crawls onto the bed and straddles him so that his cock is nudging her entrance. And there is nothing he can do, with his hands bound as they are, but watch her and wait. And he wants this, _fuck_ he wants this so much, but to his shame there are tears running down his cheeks because when she takes him in he will be giving up everything he has worked for and the years of denial and discipline will have been for nothing.

"Hey." She cups his cheek. And that simple touch has him bawling.

She lies alongside him and strokes his forehead. "Tell me."

He turns his head away, but he's too far gone now for evasion. "This is wrong." He gulps. "I want you so much but it's all wrong."

"How can it be wrong?"

"Because I'm supposed to be stronger than you!" he bursts out. "Fire consumes Earth. Earth contains Water. Water quenches Fire.' But when I'm with you, I can feel myself burning. I _want_ you to bind me. What's _wrong_ with me?"

She stills. "Where did you get that from?"

"It's just the way things are. Or should be. Except for me. Because I'm too weak to wield the power I was born with."

"Did Snoke tell you that?"

"Lord Snoke."

"Slippery-tongued sorcerer Snoke. If those are the roles of Fire and Earth and Water, where does Air come in?"

"It's the Cycle of Power," he explains. "Air above all."

She rolls her eyes. "Well, he would say that, wouldn't he?"

"What do you mean?"

"It's a corruption of the Cycles of Elements." Rey lies on her back, her cheek nestled against his. "Four elements: all equal, and each affects the others. So yes: _Fire consumes Earth_. But turn that around and you get _Earth feeds Fire_. So who is really in control there? And _Fire consumes Earth_ is wrong anyhow. It's actually _Fire quickens Earth._ Giving life, not destroying it."

Kylo stares at the ceiling, turning it around and around in his head. He has vague memories of the Cycle of Elements, he realises. Something his uncle taught. But he doesn't remember being taught anything positive about Fire.

"How do you know all this, all of a sudden?" he asks.

"I spent the winter in Hosnia," she says. "There are some very good libraries there. And luckily, some of them even admit desert orphans from Jakku."

He frowns. "Never call yourself that."

"And never call yourself _weak_. That's Snoke talking. You're powerful. And absolutely worthy of that power."

She lifts herself up on her hands and knees, straddling him on all fours. She speaks in a low voice that goes straight to his cock. "So let me show you."

Her breasts are almost close enough… if he can lift his head far enough…

She squeaks as he grazes her nipple with his teeth. "What did I tell you?" she scolds, sitting back. "Discipline, Kylo. Watch, but do not move."

The command in her voice drives out everything else. _Earth feeds Fire,_ in her own sweetly tortuous way, and he is content to wait for what she what she offers him. Indeed, she gives him no choice but to wait, and he loves her for it.

She kneels above him, arching her back so he can see the wetness glinting between her legs. She smiles at his hunger, slipping a finger inside herself, withdrawing it covered in the juices that show him that she wants this every bit as much as he does. She puts her finger to his lips and he obediently sucks, savouring the taste of her as she sinks down onto him and he is fully encased in her warmth. She clenches around him and for a moment he cannot breathe.

And then she moves, and there is nothing in the world except that sharp-edged bliss as she rides him, feeling for her own pleasure as it takes all his years of discipline and denial to stop himself from spilling into her before she is ready. And then her response shudders through them both and there's not a wall in the world that can hold him back as she screams out his name against his wordless ululation.

 

~ * ~ 

 

They watch the island grow larger, hands clasped together on the gunwale, no question this time of what they are to each other. Kylo has envisaged his arrival here many times over the years, but never like this. He ought to be raging, unsheathing his sword ready for revenge at his uncle's betrayal. But all he sees now in the mists of the past is the magician's ignorance, an ignorance that has been greatly surpassed by his own.

_Fire quickens Earth._

His uncle's greatest error had been thinking Water could teach Fire. The endless hours of meditation had merely fuelled the young Fire mage's restlessness, and given him no way to channel his power.

But where Luke had been mistaken, Snoke had been actively malevolent. _He_ had known how to train Fire, but had chosen instead to twist Kylo's talent into subservience. And Kylo's own greatest mistake had been to jump from a useless mentor to a parasitic one.

Perhaps some of Luke's methods would work better for Rey's Earth magic. But for the most part, they will each need to find their own way. As they will in matters of love. And passion. And control.

And those are lessons that a lustful Fire mage and his amorous Earth witch will relish.


End file.
